Kindred Spirits
by Cassandra Cassidy
Summary: Bakura has been having visions of his past and goes to Domino Museum looking for answers, but gets more than he bargained for. PG13 for swearing and a bit of blood.


_Author's Notes: Didn't have any notes back when I first wrote this... I just edited it today to correct some errors I noticed. XD It was originally an entry in Chibizoo's fanfiction contest._

_Warnings: Swearing, spoilers for the Egypt-arc, Bakura and Yami being semi-civil to one another._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! If I did, there would be a whole lot more looks inside the yamis' heads... XD_

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**Kindred Spirits**

Bakura stood at the bottom of a long stone staircase, debating whether or not he should be in this place. The sign marking his destination was illuminated in fluorescent-white light against the dark sky:

**MUSEUM OF DOMINO**

The spirit of the Sennen Ring sighed deeply as he made up his mind, ascending the steps.

As he entered the building and walked through the main hall, he did his best to ignore the stares and whispers of the others.

'Yes,' he thought bitterly, scowling, 'let's all stare at the white-haired one...'

Just as he'd dispelled these thoughts, the voices from his past decided to torment him as well.

"_White-haired devil!"_ cried one.

"_Stay away from here, monster!"_ screamed another.

"_The Demon of KuruEruna..."_ the last whispered.

Bakura pressed his palm to his chest, panting heavily. He leaned against a wall, trying to calm himself. These verbal assaults were becoming far too frequent for his liking. They had begun about two weeks after the end of Battle City, and were usually very vague. That was why he had come to the museum; he wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

Once his heart had resumed its normal rhythm, he continued toward his goal at the end of the corridor. He paused at the top of the darkened stairwell; a chain hung across it.

**EGYPTIAN EXHIBIT**

read the sign on the wall.

**DO NOT ENTER**

read the sign on the chain. Bakura snorted in amusement as he stepped over the pathetic blockade.

The soft clicking of his shoes against the steps echoed through the small enclosure, and a faint memory stirred in his mind; he could almost see the inner walls of some tomb he had entered in the past, but the moment he tried to focus on it, it slipped from his mental grasp.

As he reached the bottom, he flicked the switch that he knew was there, and blinked as the room filled with light. He stepped to the first of two giant stone tablets on the far wall and stared at it for a moment, as if waiting for something. However, the 'something' he got wasn't what he'd expected. The Sennen Ring had begun to thrum softly against his chest. He blinked, startled, and drew the golden Item through his shirt. One sharp pointer rose, indicating something to his left. He turned, slowly, wondering how he hadn't sensed this before. The signal was undeniably familiar...

There, standing before the second ancient tablet, was the Pharaoh. Bakura froze; perhaps he hadn't been noticed yet.

'I knew this was a bad idea...'

The amethyst eyes of his hated rival flickered toward him, and Bakura gave him his best scowl. Yami said nothing, merely turned his attention back to the tablet of himself and Seto Kaiba's past battle. Bakura's frown deepened and he stepped toward the other spirit.

"Being a bit vain, aren't we, Pharaoh?" he inquired, an eyebrow raised mockingly.

"Why are you here, Bakura?" the fiery-haired one sounded exhausted.

"I could ask you the same thing," Bakura bit back nastily.

"...You would think it stupid," Yami murmured after a long pause.

"I already think you're stupid, Pharaoh."

"..."

"Speak up, Pharaoh."

Yami spun around to face him then, and, not for the first time, the intensity of the once-king's eyes made Bakura feel slightly... off, somehow.

"Bakura," Yami spoke his name wearily, as if he were acting like a troublesome child, "if you truly MUST know..." he hesitated for a moment, "I... I thought that I could... invoke some of my memories by looking at the tablets." His voice sounded oddly small, as if he thought he was being foolish.

Bakura grunted slightly and crossed his arms, his eyes straying toward the tablet as well. "Fair enough," he replied; there was no malice in his tone, no cocky sarcasm, just... acceptance.

Yami blinked. "...That's it?" he asked, surprised.

Amber eyes narrowed and glared at him. "Would you prefer it if I told you that you are a fool and that your memories are lost to you forever, followed up by a bit of maniacal laughter?" he returned, snidely as ever.

"Prefer...? No. Expect, however..." a sigh, "Yes."

"What's the sense in insulting myself?"

Yami stared at him for a moment. "...What?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Really, Pharaoh, sometimes I wonder if those dueling tactics and pretty speeches of yours are the only things residing in your head. Don't be so dense – why would saying such things be an insult to us both?" he chided.

Yami sighed and answered reluctantly, "Because you came here tonight with the same objective." He shifted uncomfortably.

The white-haired spirit sighed softly, his resentful anger dissipating. "Very good," he replied flatly.

Both returned their eyes to the tablets on the wall. As he stared at the depicted battle, Bakura let his mind wander... 

_A young, white-haired child shot out of bed. 'What was that?' he wondered. Something akin to a shout had stirred him from slumber. He could hear a multitude of voices – panicked voices – outside his small dwelling. He crept to the door, listening closely as he caught snatches of speech._

"..._can't really be true..."_

"..._someone saw them heading this way..."_

"..._but why? Why would they come in the middle of the night?"_

"..._Pharaoh's army approaching the village..."_

_The boy's eyes widened fearfully at this last. Why WOULD the Pharaoh's army be coming to KuruEruna? It was such a small village, and the inhabitants did not cause much trouble... there couldn't be anything terribly wrong, could there?_

_A frightened shriek cut through the desert air, and five-year-old Bakura let a small whimper escape him. A cacophony of shouts rose outside, mingling with the pounding of feet as people ran frantically through the streets._

"_They're attacking!!!"_

"_It's the Pharaoh's forces! They're attacking the villagers!"_

"_Somebody find the Elder!"_

"_What the hell is going on?!"_

"Bakura? BAKURA?!"

Bakura gasped sharply, clutching at his heart; he was barely aware of Yami's hands on his shoulders; he was shaking him and asking if he was all right. The young man's face slowly came into focus before the once-thief's eyes, and his voice broke through the haze surrounding his thoughts.

"Bakura, what's wrong with you? Damn it, SAY something!"

"...Let go of my shoulders, Pharaoh."

Yami complied with a slightly relieved, slightly annoyed sigh.

There was a few moments' pause; the only sound that of the pair's breathing – Bakura's was a bit more labored – before Yami broke the oppressive silence.

"What just happened?"

Bakura snorted. "I'd tell you if I knew." He climbed to his feet.

Yami hesitated before asking, "Was that the first time something like that has happened, or does it happen often?"

"The latter," the white-haired spirit muttered. A frown creased Yami's brow.

"Do they usually last the same length of time or –"

"I don't KNOW, Pharaoh! All right? I don't fucking know..." Bakura rubbed his temples, mentally cursing himself for coming to the museum to begin with. This had been the most vivid vision yet.

"Did you see anything?" Yami asked, sounding almost... hopeful.

"Are you always this morbid, Pharaoh?"

"I just wondered –"

"Yes."

"– what – What?"

"Yes, I saw something."

"Wha –"

"I'm not going to tell you, so don't even bother asking."

"..."

Bakura sighed deeply. 'Pharaoh's army...' he thought. 'It couldn't have been Yami's army, he's younger than I am; he would have been an infant at the time so... it must have been his father that ordered the attack...'

He felt Yami's eyes on him and spun around, ready to make some scathing remark, but the words died on his tongue. Yami was looking at him miserably.

"It had something to do with me, didn't it?"

"There you go being vain again, Pharaoh. And I told you: it's none of your business."

Amethyst eyes narrowed. "I'm MAKING it my business," he retorted. Then, before Bakura could object, he said hurriedly, "You were... saying things, you know."

Bakura froze. "...What kinds of things...?"

"You were murmuring under your breath – you said something about the 'Pharaoh's army'..." Yami watched Bakura carefully. The latter shifted nervously under Yami's scrutiny. He hated it when people stared at him – judged him. After a time, he finally replied.

"It wasn't YOUR army... it was your father's." This last word was spoken with more than a small bit of contempt, but Yami ignored it and merely blinked.

"My father?"

Bakura shot him an exasperated look. "Yes, Pharaoh, your FATHER."

"What about his army?"

"Do you not LISTEN? I specifically told you that I am not going to discuss this with you..." he paused, scowling at his own blunder. He waited, expecting Yami to make some smart-ass comment about how he'd just BEEN discussing it, however, Yami just sighed.

"...Fine."

Bakura chewed his bottom lip as he turned back to the tablet. Putting this latest flashback together with some of the others he'd had, he came to the conclusion that somehow, the grudge he held toward Yami had to have stemmed from SOMETHING having to do with the attack his father had made on KuruEruna. However, he hadn't yet recalled the events that took place that night. He got the distinct feeling his mind was purposely trying to hide that particular information from him, if only just to piss him off.

Yami cleared his throat softly, and Bakura glanced at him again. He let out an exasperated growl.

"For the love of Ma'at, Pharaoh, what is it now?!"

Yami looked slightly taken aback by his outburst, but spoke anyway, his tone unaffected.

"I just wondered... do you know how the Items were created?"

"Not that I've recalled, no." Bakura massaged his temples once more. "I do know WHY they were created, though," he added. He wondered, simultaneously, why he'd bothered saying that last bit aloud.

"Hmm?" He'd gotten Yami's full attention now. He sighed.

"There was a war going on... against the Hittites, I believe. It doesn't matter – the point is that the enemy's army far outnumbered Egypt's – your father's – army. So, your father – his name was Akunamkanon – stumbled across the legend of the Thousand Year Items. He agreed to their creation; they were Egypt's best chance against the enemy.

"I assume they worked?"

Bakura smirked, glancing down at his own Ring before responding. "Of course, but they came with a price that you and I both know well..."

Yami nodded, understanding. "They opened the Shadow Realm and started the chain of events that would eventually land us both in Japan during the twenty-first century..."

"...and they left the mess for you, the heir to the throne, to clean up." Bakura finished smugly, hoping to anger the former-Pharaoh; he could use a good argument right about now. He figured he could think better when he was angry – he'd usually stumble across his more hidden thoughts that way.

Yami fell silent for a moment, before inquiring, "Bakura? Why... if you hated me so much... why did you......?"

"Seal my soul in the Ring?" he chanced.

"...Yes."

"I don't remember."

"Do you remember if you partook in the ritual willingly?"

Bakura shrugged. "I doubt it, but it's possible." He paused. "More likely, it was forced on me by a certain desperate Pharaoh who was out of options..." he put in snidely.

Yami's eyes flickered strangely, but Bakura couldn't make out what emotion he'd seen. He found out soon enough, however, when Yami next spoke. "Well... if it's any consolation –"

"Don't be SORRY, Pharaoh... I don't need your damned apologies."

Yami sighed, "I wish I knew WHY you hate me," he muttered. "What did I DO to you three thousand years ago?"

Bakura snarled irately. "What the hell makes you think I have any more memory of it than you do?!"

Yami didn't reply, he merely turned back to the tablet. Bakura soon followed suit. He studied the carved hieroglyphs, studied the picture of his rival. Why did the boy invoke such fury in him? Yami's words floated around among his thoughts. 'What DID he do to me...'

_Terrified shrieks pierced the air, making the hair on the back of Bakura's neck stand on end. He dashed outside, trying to determine what was going on. He snuck toward the center of the village; he could hear the army's forces._

_He was only a child, but the people of KuruEruna were all skilled at stealth, and Bakura was no exception; he crept behind houses, keeping to the shadows. Something deep in his mind was telling him he would be safe if he stayed in the shadows..._

_More screams rang through the village, and Bakura smelled smoke; he could see flames licking the sky, burning a deep red-orange against the indigo night. He ran toward them, looking for answers. The closer he got, the louder the screams became – the screams of his damned village..._

_He crouched behind the crumbling wall of a deserted house, listening. He heard strange things; people were getting cut-off mid-scream, as if their voices had suddenly stopped working. He heard the clang of metal, which was new to him. He peeked carefully around the corner of the wall and his breathing hitched. He had never seen a sword before, although he knew what one was. He had never seen the Pharaoh's soldiers, but he knew who they were. And he had never seen someone die, but it was suddenly happening all around him..._

_He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn and run away – wanted to go somewhere and cry and cry until he ran out of tears– but he could not remove his eyes from the horrible bloodbath before him. He had, after all, seen blood before. And he knew that blood was supposed to remain inside people, and yet... here it was, spattering the ground, smearing the swords of the Pharaoh's army. Lifeless bodies lay strewn every place his eyes looked; more were joining them as the soldiers whooped and shouted, slashing every which way with no regard for the screams and sobs that surrounded them._

_Bakura stood, transfixed, his eyes wide. Why? Why were they killing the villagers? Bakura had heard of people killing one another over this thing or that, but never this many people... this was a massacre! He couldn't move; he didn't DARE to breathe, lest the soldiers turn their attention to him..._

_The soldiers directed their horses deeper into the city, shouting to each other as if this was just some sort of game to them. Bakura felt something wet hit his face as a nearby soldier finished another kill. He raised one small hand and wiped at it, lowering his eyes to his hand as he took it away from his cheek. It was streaked with crimson. He felt his throat seize up._

"_No..." he choked as the soldier rode off to join his comrades. "No... why are they doing this... what'd we ever do...?" His eyes moved over the bodies of KuruEruna's villagers as his ears picked up the soldiers' voices in the distance._

"..._ninety-nine sacrifices..."_

"... _have enough now..."_

"..._must create them now..."_

"..._the Thousand Year Items will win the war..."_

"BAKURA?!?!"

"...Wha...?"

Yami was shaking him again. 'Shit...'

"You collapsed again," the once-king stated calmly, helping the white-haired boy to his feet, much to Bakura's dislike. Once standing, he immediately wrenched himself away from Yami.

"Wonderful," he spat. "Care to elaborate?"

Yami sighed, getting the idea. "You said something about a massacre... then about a great deal of blood, and then you said, 'The Thousand Year Items will win the war'."

Bakura fought the urge to punch the other. 'Why the hell did he have to be here?' he thought in disgust, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that if it weren't for Yami, he'd probably still be half-unconscious...

"Wonderful," he repeated. Yami scowled.

"I want to know what's going on, Bakura. You can't hide this from me forever –"

"I can and I will," Bakura said stubbornly.

"FINE," Yami said, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Fine. If you want to keep me in the dark about this, go right ahead. I..." a slight note of uncertainty crept into his voice. "I will figure it out on my own..."

"Give it up, Pharaoh," Bakura snarled. "You're a fool. Your memories are lost to you forever..." he echoed his earlier words. He tried to laugh, but the sound would not escape him; Yami's eyes, usually full of fire, were smoldering darkly. 'Damn him and his eyes... why is he looking at me like that? He said himself that he expects this kind of thing from me...'

To Bakura's surprise, Yami just chuckled softly. "I do not understand you," he murmured, sounding both amused and perplexed. "I do not understand how you cannot want to start shouting about what you have seen... if I were regaining my memories, I would be telling anyone that would listen..."

"That's the difference between you and me, Pharaoh. I don't share my findings with other people. My thoughts are nobody's business but my own."

"Oh, but you find nothing wrong with gloating. You're acting like a child! 'I know something you don't know!'" Yami glowered at him. Then, suddenly, the fiery-haired spirit seemed to catch himself; he fell silent, his eyes regained their fire, and he stood up straighter...

'...The semblance of royalty,' Bakura thought darkly, before he was suddenly clutching his heart once more, his blood roaring in his ears. His vision began to fade; he was deaf to Yami's shouts. There was a flash of light before his eyes, and then he appeared back in Egypt, reliving an event from his past once more...

_A teenaged Bakura now stood before the king's throne, laughing uproariously. "Look at the gift I brought you, Pharaoh!" he stepped back, revealing the mummy of Akunamkanon. He placed one foot on the mummy, grinning devilishly at the Pharaoh. He saw the Pharaoh's priests gather defensively before their king; he saw the Pharaoh rise to his feet._

"_Why are you doing this?! My father brought peace to Egypt, and you DARE deface him this way?! I will not forgive you!"_

_Bakura laughed again. "This 'peace' of your father's is nothing but a lie! Where was 'peace' when the people of KuruEruna were massacred?!"_

_The Pharaoh faltered, as if this was the first he'd heard of the event. Bakura narrowed his eyes._

"_Don't tell me you don't know... KuruEruna was destroyed so that you could have those Items of Power! And what good did they bring? What 'peace'?"_

_The Pharaoh strode toward him and he grinned. "So the Pharaoh finally decides to fight his own battle..."_

"_You will regret having come here, Bakura," the king said, raising his arms as he began a summon._

_Bakura laughed once again, raising his arms as well. He summoned forth his spirit monster, Diabound, just as the Pharaoh brought Obelisk down to Earth. "You cannot win, Pharaoh! Diabound is all-powerful!" Bakura's amber eyes took on a slightly mad look as he screamed his order to the creature: "ATTACK!!!"_

Another flash of light, and a new vision appeared.

_The dark of night surrounded two figures on horseback. They were racing through a city, the one behind slowly gaining on the one before. The leader's laugh carried back to the follower, and the latter tensed._

"_Tired yet, Pharaoh?" Bakura shouted over his shoulder._

"_Not at all, you coward," the king returned, silently preparing to summon again. Bakura realized what he was doing and immediately moved to stop him. "Diabound! Attack the city!" he cried with a laugh, setting loose his spirit monster on the unsuspecting inhabitants._

"_Osiris! Stop Diabound, now!" The Pharaoh watched as the sky dragon chased Diabound, blocking its attempts to destroy his kingdom._

_That was just the opening Bakura had been waiting for. He laughed as Diabound disappeared from view, melding with the darkness. He smirked as the Pharaoh's entourage came into view. 'Trying to protect their beloved king,' he thought. 'No matter; they cannot defeat what they cannot see.'_

_As if on cue, Diabound reappeared just above the Pharaoh, preparing to strike. Just as the attack was about to hit, another spirit creature intercepted the blast; the Pharaoh's guards had arrived..._

A third flash of light, and with it, a new memory...

_Bakura, the king, and the remaining priests stood in a darkened chamber. 'This is it...' Bakura thought, facing his enemies. 'The final battle... how ironic that we should do battle over the Items in the same chamber in which they were created...'_

_In the blink of an eye, the room was filled with the cries of monsters and their masters as the priests tried one final time to put a stop to Bakura's tyranny. Nobody noticed the young king's chanting until it was far too late. The monsters disappeared as the summoners lost all concentration. The Thousand Year Items glowed brilliantly, piercing the darkness with their light. Amidst it all – the cries of the priests, wondering what was going on; where their leader was – Bakura alone realized what was happening, but he, too, could do nothing. He felt as if his energy was completely dispersed; his strength sapped. He and the others could only look on in horror as the fire-haired sovereign addressed them all, the only one standing among them._

"_This," he motioned around them, "is to be your – and my own – final resting place. Our names shall be erased from history; our faces forgotten by the people; our deeds never to be spoken of again. When my father, the late Akunamkanon, created these Items," at this, he lifted the inverted-pyramid resting on his chest, casting its dull glow over them all, "he had no intention of using their power for such things as we here have so done. For that reason, I will put a stop to this foolishness once and for all. Akunamkanon created the Items to bring peace to Egypt... but we, we have brought nothing but chaos to the people, and for that, the items must be made obsolete."_

_The appalled gasps of his priests confirmed for Bakura that the lot had no prior knowledge of their beloved king's intentions. He allowed himself a small smile; the young man had tricked them all. How fitting for the alleged 'King of Games'..._

"_These Items have opened a rift between our world and the Realm of Shadows. It is because of this rift that chaos befell us all. It is time for us to make things right again," he lifted the Item over his head, and the third eye on his brow – a sign of his relation to the gods – glowed brightly. "The spell I just began is that which will seal our souls within the Items. There is little time left before it takes full effect. I wish to make one final thing known to you all," he smiled grimly. "There is the slightest chance that we will be reborn one day, far in the future. If our respective Items are found by the chosen successors, our spirits could be released. However..." he paused, and the air seemed to shudder around them. Bakura vaguely heard his rival mutter, "Very soon..."_

_The tomb raider felt his heartbeat slow. 'So, then. This is the end of us all. There will be no victor in this battle...' he frowned. 'My revenge will not be fulfilled in this life...' and he made up his mind, there in the darkness of the Temple of KuruEruna, that he would, indeed, be reborn. 'And when that day comes, I will have my revenge...' his thoughts trailed off as he felt his spirit leaving him, pouring into the darkness._

Bakura came to, lying on the tiled floor of Domino city's museum, feeling as if he had just been crushed by a pyramid block. "...What the hell...?" he wondered aloud, barely aware of his own voice.

Yami's face appeared in his vision, and he again resisted the urge to maim the unsuspecting boy as he was, again, hoisted to his feet by the shorter spirit.

"Verdict?" he asked tiredly.

"You saw what I did to you. Care to explain?"

"What do you think?"

"Maybe later," Yami muttered, sounding distraught.

"Hn. Maybe later," Bakura agreed. Yami jumped, and Bakura grinned evilly.

"You mean, you might actually tell me?"

"I said 'maybe', didn't I?"

"Yes, yes... maybe..."

A clock upstairs chimed the hour.

"One AM..." Bakura scowled. "I'm getting out of here." He turned on his heel and strode toward the stairs; Yami's footsteps echoed his own as he walked, and he knew the boy was going to follow him out. He sighed heavily, slowing his pace so the shorter spirit could keep up.

"You know," he commented dryly as they exited the building and descended the steps, "I swore to myself, all that time ago, that I'd get my revenge on you... but perhaps it was never truly supposed to happen."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps I'm not supposed to destroy you... it will just be an endless cycle; my revenge will always be just out of my reach..."

Yami stopped, and Bakura did as well, unconsciously. He turned to look at the other, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"...Perhaps you don't need to worry about it anymore." Yami's voice was quiet, but his face wore a mask of indifference.

"What are you saying? That I should just forget about the pain your father caused me?" Bakura snarled, wondering why the hell he would have been so stupid as to think he could get away with speaking his thoughts aloud before his rival. 'Idiot...' he chided himself. 'You should have known he'd use it against you...'

"Bakura," Yami's voice startled him back to the present. "...I'm not my father, Bakura. I wish you could come to understand that. I know that your... grudge... against me goes back to what his army did, but..."

"Maybe." Bakura cut him off, his voice barely audible as he turned his back to the former Pharaoh. "Maybe, someday, I'll let it go. But for now," his voice gained its usual barbed edge once more, "for now, you and I remain enemies, and for now, I will stop at nothing to gain my revenge. We will see what comes to pass, Pharaoh." He threw a glance at the shorter spirit, his eyes glinting strangely in the darkness. Then he was gone, uniting with the shadows as easily as he had some three thousand years ago.

Yami stood before the museum for a long time afterward, watching the place where Bakura had been. When he finally returned to the game shop, it was nearly dawn. He did not speak of the night's events with anyone; there was nothing to discuss. But Yugi could swear that, when Yami thought he was alone, he could hear the spirit speaking to himself, and he always heard him utter the same word:

"...Maybe..."

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_End Notes: Please R&R. ::smile::smile::_


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